


Hall of the Mountain Kings: Forsythia

by OldDVS



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 05:25:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19244722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldDVS/pseuds/OldDVS
Summary: When Forsythia Snape was sorted into Slytherin it wasn't really a surprise to Severus Snape except generally, as he had no idea his sister had reproduced.  Forsythia is not having a good experience at Hogwarts at first.  It gets better.This is the first part of the third story I was going to in my Hall of the Mountain King series.  It won't be finished, but I have put up the first few sections and will end in a summary of what was to happen.  It's also not as beta/edited/fussed with as most of mine, and so there may be bits that I would have usually gone back over and fixed.  I hope I ended it at a spot that doesn't make the story feel too cut off in the middle.





	Hall of the Mountain Kings: Forsythia

Severus -- A New Term Begins September 1

“Forsythia Snape.”

Severus Snape, who had been scowling at the Slytherin table–the additions so far this year had been both sparse and unremarkable–looked up. A thin girl with lank black hair was taking the seat. McGonagall dropped the sorting hat upon the girl’s head.

“Something you’ve forgot to mention?” Flitwick murmured, his eyes dancing as he looked up at Snape. 

“Does Harry know?” asked Madam Pince from his other side.

Snape deepened his scowl.

“Slytherin!” cried out the hat.

Of course. Slytherin. Snape sighed. Everyone was staring at him. He ignored them.

“Samantha Sutter.”

Also Slytherin. As was Breena Taylor, Glorianna Thackery and, gods save him, Helena Weasley. That was when he realized that almost all the new little snakes this year were female. There was one lone male. He experienced a small sense of foreboding, but pushed it back. The feast was beginning. He ate slowly, hardly tasting the food he put in his mouth. 

He was at the door as the students filed out. As the girl went by, he reached out with one long arm, snagged her by the shoulder, and pulled her aside.

“Whose brat are you?” he asked the young Snape. He studied her. Wide dark eyes, pale skin, and a version of the family nose which was at least in proportion to her face. Skinny. Dressed in robes that were not new and had no claim to style or quality. True to type, anyway, he thought with a grim smile. That smile made her take a half step back.

His hand did not let her go and he gave her a little shake. 

“Sir?”

“Your mother and father?”

“Tryphenia Snape, and–“ she paused and looked away.

”And?”

“I don’t know, sir. Mother only calls him, ‘The Mistake,’” she admitted. Her face lost what little color it had. 

“My sister, then. I hope you don’t expect any favors or preferential treatment.”

“Of course not. No,” she shook her head hard. He let her go and watched her dash down the corridor to catch up with the rest of her age mates.

He followed her more slowly, thinking as he paced that this year would be interesting for more reasons than one. His stride lengthened. He came to the door, where the first-years stood waiting. He turned to face them, his cloak and robe swirling out to become one with the shadows. 

“The House of Salazar Slytherin opens to you. Be worthy of this honor.” He said it in his most elegant voice, rounding the words and making them ring.

They stared up at him, eyes wide, breathlessly waiting.

“I am Severus Snape, Head of this House. You are mine and will obey me as you would a parent.” He paused, then said, “In fact, I expect more from you. For the next seven years I will be the most important adult in your life. I have the ability to make your existence miserable, should you not meet my expectations.”

His spoke again, almost softly, forcing them to lean forward and to strain to hear his voice. “Ignore what rumors you have heard about this house. The truth is known only to us, and we do not share it with others. When you step over our threshold, you will be welcomed by those of your house. They are your elders. Heed their advice and follow their lead, but use your brains as well. You are clever little snakes and will do well, if you learn the lessons we teach here. The success you have will be built on your own ability and your alliances. Make them carefully.

“We will enter and you will be taken to the common room. An older student will be assigned to be your mentor for a week. Any questions you have will be directed at your mentor. Not, you dunderheads, to me. My niece,” he paused to let the low whispers roll through the room, “expects no special treatment from me and will get none. Tomorrow all Slytherins will join here after the evening meal for our first house meeting. There are no exceptions. The older students have endured these lectures for years, but there is some evidence there is need for another repetition; note that on the whole I dislike repeating myself.” 

He turned and faced the door. “Salazar!” he said, and the door opened. He led them inside. The older Slytherins lined the corridor to the common room and fell in behind and beside the first years, an escort which dissolved upon the entrance to the common room. Once there, Snape announced the names of the new Slytherin students and ordered them everyone to carefully note who they were. Then he began to call out the names of fifth and sixth year students. When his or her name was called the student stepped forward and selected one of the first year students of the same sex to mentor. When the last name was called, the unpaired Slytherins retreated to talk among themselves and take care of their own concerns, leaving the rest to begin to get acquainted with their charges. 

Snape stood watching the students, thinking about the surprise he had that night. A niece. He wondered if his brothers, too, had managed to reproduce. Distressing thought. He should check on that. He disliked being surprised. 

He was rather sure the young girl had also been taken unaware. Now she was occasionally looking in his direction, carefully not meeting his eyes but snatching glimpses of him. He scowled to show her she should be giving her attention to Serenity Highgate. Highgate’s motives might be in question at times, for she was quite self-serving, but she was both smart and personable. At least young Snape would get a proper start.

Young Snape.

He mentally laughed at himself and refused to think of a student by his own last name. It was not much better thinking of her as Forsythia. What a ridiculous name.

As the older students finished settling in and unpacking the items they had not entrusted to the house elves, they drifted back down to gather around the fire in the common room, or to hide out in the nooks and crannies of the great room. The noise level rose a little, and the house elves brought drinks. 

Malcolm Conner, one of the prefects, joined Snape where he stood by doorway.

“Was your summer pleasant, Professor?” he asked politely.

“Reasonably so. Yours?”

“Oh, yes. We went to Egypt.” The young man did not sound particularly happy about it. “Should I have bought the mummyskin powder offered in the bazaar? It was a galleon an ounce.”

Snape gave a huffing snort. “Be glad you saved your money. It’s almost all from cat mummies. Not that the substance doesn’t have some use, but not at that price.”

“Cat mummies.”

“Umm.”

“Would it be impertinent to ask about the health of your friend, Mr. Potter?” the young man asked cautiously.

“Most certainly.” Snape looked carefully at the young man and added, “I shall tell him you inquired, however.”

“Thank you.”

“Go get Highgate,” Snape ordered. The girl arrived quickly, greeted him politely and listened to his instructions. She nodded and promptly returned to her young charge. Snape watched while not appearing to watch. The evening went well enough. He soon sent his youngest snakes and their mentors to the showers. The younger students bathed at night, the older ones in the morning, and woe to the child who skipped a wash. Snape despised the smell of dirty children. 

All the children except the seventh years were to be in bed at a certain time. The seventh years sat around the fire, enjoying their first privilege of the year. He joined their conversation, treating them like adults and watching as they responded in kind. At midnight he stood and reminded them that with their status came responsibility and they were not to be late for their morning classes. But he did not tell them to go to bed. Then he left them.

His door opened for him. Harry Potter was seated at the fire, book in hand. The young man looked up and smiled as his lover walked in; he set his book aside with a swiftness that caused Snape to smile.

“All they all settled in?” Harry asked, taking a kiss and pulling Snape down to the couch.

“Every one,” Snape said. “Including my niece.”

Harry went still. “You have a niece?” He grinned, then and said, “which one of them spawned?”

“The youngest, my sister. I’ve set someone to collecting the details, but I should suppose the family is continuing the tradition of genteel poverty, lousy parenting and worse communication.”

“Well, we have a niece. How are we going to treat her?” Harry asked.

“As we do any other student,” Severus said, after raising an eye at the ‘we’.

“What is she like?”

“Like a Snape. Dark hair and no particular beauty.”

“Smart?”

Snape’s lips twitched. “That remains to be seen. Given the family attitude towards books and learning, she may be a total ignoramus, even if she is intelligent.”

“Well, that can be overcome. I did,” Potter pointed out.

Snape snorted. “Wasn’t it only last week you...”

Potter smacked him lightly on the arm, kissed him again to apologize for it and said, “Guess what?”

Snape had never played that game. His eye canted up and he waited for his lover to cough up whatever secret he was harboring.

Harry laughed and said, “I started on the house today.”

“You wasted no time.”

“They say winter may come early this year. I have the dungeon almost done.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. It could hardly be called a dungeon. It was a cellar and storage area. “Almost?”

“Well, more than half. The steps took hours. My back is killing me.”

“I have a new batch of the green potion.”

Harry nodded, “I’ll need it. Ron dropped by to help a bit. He moved the trees for me. They seemed startled to find their roots in decent soil. You know how transplanted items look sort of depressed sometimes? Not these. We put most of them in a line along the drive to cut the wind. And you were right about the terrace. With the trees gone it will just fit.”

Severus smirked. Harry smiled back at him. 

Then Harry added, “I talked to the publisher today. Sales of Muggle Solutions for Wizard Problems are up, even more than expected. I still can’t believe it was selected as the text for the sixth year students this year,” Harry said. “Hermione was pleased.”

“She’s been pleased ever since you asked her to write it with you.”

“Now Ron wants her to help him with a book on the Cannons.”

“Oh? That should be interesting,” Snape said, with the inflection that said the opposite. “Let’s not have either of them visit this month.”

“Coward,” Harry mocked. 

“Do shut up and come to bed. Just having children back in the castle is exhausting,” Snape complained as he turned towards the bedroom.

“Too tired to make mad, passionate love to me?” Harry asked.

“Yes.”

“Good. I’m tired as well. I couldn’t do right by you,” Harry confessed.

Severus paused. “You didn’t overdo?” he asked sharply.

“No, no, I paced myself,” Harry assured him. 

Snape said, “You do remember that as long as you’re working on the house...”

Harry laughed. “No more than four hours of rock magic a day. How could I forget! By the way, I’ve had my shower and you can get right to rubbing my back with your marvelous concoction.” 

Snape gave a sort of mocking huff. Potter just grinned over his shoulder at him. 

 

Forsythia September 1, late at night.

How very strange it was to sleep in a room with seven girls.

With anyone, actually. Forsythia couldn’t remember ever doing so. When she was young, her cradle was in the room across the hall from her mother’s, and a house elf came if she cried. She felt just a little like crying now. It was so strange here. It was dark in this room. At home, she had a window, and she liked to leave the curtains open and have huge wedges of white moonlight on her floor at night.

Still, it was not as bad as she had feared. She liked the little alcove for her bed, and it was nice to have such beautiful draperies around it. Hers were silver and blue. Each bed had a different color combination in the hangings, which matched the duvet. She had a shelf and desk, a narrow wardrobe and an elevated stone platform at the end of the bed for her trunk to rest on. The bed was warm and she had brought her own pillow, so there were two. It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable, it was just that it was all strange and she just couldn’t sleep.

It had been a week of surprises. Six days ago her mother had come to her and said that she would be going to school, to Hogwarts. It was the first Forsythia had heard about going away to school. The almost the first she had ever heard of Hogwarts. Yesterday, she had been told that everything she needed for school was already packed in her trunk. She was to select what she wanted to take with her from her room, and she was to pack what trinkets and clothing she wanted to keep. The rest of the clothing would be discarded as by the time she returned next summer it would all be too small. The implication lingered that all of her treasures would be gone when she returned, if she did not take them now. 

It hadn’t been hard to choose what she would take to wear, as she hadn’t had much to begin on. She had squirreled away her treasures, hiding everything she could not bear to leave behind in the bottom of the trunk. Now she was wondering if it would be safe to take some out and put them where she could see them. She didn't know much about schools, but she knew that people took things. People tried to take the apples from the orchards, sometimes.

She shouldn’t have thought about apples. She was going to miss the harvest this year. She had never missed harvest. Her dear orchard. She knew every leaf of it. She was sure she even knew it better than her mother did. Forsythia had an old broom at home, which she had not been allowed to bring, and she loved zipping between the trees, racing through small holes between the branches, the leaves fluttering against her legs. She had spent most of her childhood outdoors, playing in a little hut she had built between the roots of her favorite old tree. 

Don’t think of that.

Think of...the uncle. The uncle she never knew she had. She had met the other two uncles several times. The older one was grumpy and the younger one had a mean wife. They hadn’t had children for her to play with. When they had gone to visit them, she had sat very quietly and listened to them, as her mother had insisted a polite child should, but really, they hadn’t said much that she understood. And mother had never mentioned another brother.

Severus Snape. She’d tricked Serenity into mentioning his first name, because it would look quite silly that she didn’t know the name of her own uncle. He was potions teacher here. Potions. At least potions were interesting. What little she knew of them. Her tutor, Mrs. Clumpot, had not spent a lot of time on potions. Mrs. Clumpot had come to the house for four hours every day, starting on Forsythia’s seventh birthday and continuing straight along. There had been no holidays or summers off for them, except for two days each quarter of the year when her mother celebrated the turning of the seasons. 

Lessons eight until noon, seven days a week. She learned reading and writing, maths and history for three hours, and in the last hour, usually something magic related, about history or potions or charms. Nothing was actually taught, it was all just telling her *about* it, and making her memorize words, phrases and lists. 

And now, here she was, at Hogwarts. All the other students seemed to know more than she did about everything. And she already knew that here students went to school all day, and were assigned extra work to do after the evening meal. That sounded like being locked in, like having all her own time stolen away. She was almost sure she wasn’t going to like it here.

But...there were children her own age. It would be nice to have a friend or two. She had never had one, really. At home, she went down the hill and played with the Muggle children sometimes, but not often enough for them to be considered real friends, since she knew she wasn’t supposed to even speak to them. She had once, quite bravely, accepted an invitation to go into a Muggle house. She’d watched the television and shared the crisps. She’d quite liked the food, but the telly had been incomprehensible. They had asked a lot of questions, though, that she couldn‘t answer. She hadn’t gone back.

Now she was here. In a huge old castle. 

One of the other girls muttered a word in her sleep and turned over. They were going to wake up early in the morning, and all go down to breakfast together. Dinner had been lovely, with many of her favorite foods. If only she could sleep! But the thoughts kept running around in her head. Finally, she got up and prowled around the room, staring at each of the sleeping girls, and looking at their things if they had been set out. She went out of the room and down the hall to the toilet. The toilet seat was so cold! She didn’t linger after washing her hands, but dashed back to her room, jumping into bed and covering her head with the thick blankets. Sleep still eluded her. Eventually she got up and crouched beside her trunk. It was too dark to see much. But she found what she was looking for and crawled back in bed with the stick clutched in her hand. And then she fell asleep.

Severus September 5th

There was such a thing as too much information. Still, Snape listened to the Highgate girl prattle on, as there were some notable nuggets of fact tucked away in the verbiage. He didn’t correct her reporting style. He preferred the innocence of it as it was. If she could predict what he wished to hear, she would know too much about his business. It was better just to put up with the flow of garbage.

“She’s here because her mom has a new boyfriend, as far as I can tell. Rather sudden, it was, coming here. The man started courting her mother in the spring. His name is Wilton Constancy but she didn’t know what he did for a living. I’ve never heard of the Constancy family, have you? Not one of the old families, Constancy. She doesn’t like him much. I think that is because he doesn’t like her. When he’s visiting she isn’t allowed to eat at the table with them, but has to stay in her room and eat there.

“Her birthday is in the spring and she’s named after a flower. She isn’t anybody, doesn’t know anybody, a real innocent. Doesn’t know anything about real life, or fashion or who is who. Never been to school. Taught at home. Still, she’s a bit of a sly thing,” this was said admiringly, “she asked about you rather indirectly. Plain enough she had never met you before.” There was a question in her eyes which invited him to elaborate on that, which he squelched with a look.

“Her clothes are hopeless. I helped her unpack and there aren’t many. Some of her robes are new but they didn’t fit well so I told her I would teach her the tailoring spells. She was properly grateful but hasn’t a thing to offer in return. Still, she might be bright. Her eyes have that lively look sometimes, when a thing catches her interest. She’s not very good at hiding her feelings but she tries. 

“She’s not very sexual yet, not like last year’s lot with their make-up and heeled shoes. I can’t tell which direction her attraction lies.” That was accompanied by a sort of genteel leer.

Snape winced inside, keeping his reaction from his face. Sometimes he rued the day Harry had talked him into beginning to reveal their relationship. Of course, too many people knew for it to be a true secret. They’d spent last Boxing Day at the Burrow, after all. And Harry was right, most of the Death Eaters were rounded up now, dead or in prison. It was almost eight years since they had killed the dark lord. But it has still been hard to begin to go out, to present themselves as a couple by arriving together and leaving together.

Serenity finished her report, smiled at his single word of praise and went off to lunch. Snape would have liked to work on one of his own projects, but it was required of the faculty to eat at least two meals a day in the Great Hall. Well, except for Binns, of course. Each of the adults was supposed to keep one eye on the students. It rather put one off one’s food. He had learned not to look directly at the juvenile herd, to scan for the unusual without actually having to see the cretins who had never learned to chew with the mouth shut, or had never learned the right way to use a knife.

His eye insisted on coming to a halt at the slight figure of his niece. She slumped on the bench. Not happy, he decided. Homesick, no doubt. Half of the first year students would be showing the symptoms of it for the first month. They’d all be well over it by Halloween. Slytherins, mind you. Hufflepuffs could still be sniveling into their pumpkin juice at the spring equinox. 

He watched Forsythia lean across the table to hear what Coletta Goyle had to say. He wondered what mischief the second year was up to, and decided to listen in tonight. There were places in the Slytherin walls where the Head of House could go to eavesdrop on his charges. If nothing else came up tonight to take his time, he would. If nothing else presented itself, he thought again.

Because it might. Gradually, over the last few years, the intensity of his attention to duty had wavered. He still worked harder than any other professor on the staff. Once, he would have roamed the castle at night for hours, making sure that the students who might have dark purposes were thwarted and those who had amorous intentions were frustrated. Of course, in those days, all the pain, memories and adrenalin connected with his spying activities had to have an outlet. He needed the hunt, the feeling of success when he found the children. It kept his skills sharp, too, his stealth and cunning practiced in safe games of tracking and entrapment. 

Now, he had equally good reasons to stay in at night, and only patrolled the hallways at random intervals, with an entire week going by sometimes between rounds. Harry was working tonight, and he would probably not get back before morning. So. Tonight he would spy a bit.

Harry September 19

Harry Potter tended to work on his projects for a time, and when he hit a snag or needed to think about it before he went on, he moved to the next task and worked on that awhile. He had dozens of projects and interests and there was always something else to work on, especially since they had decided to build the house. 

The house had been Severus’ idea, and Harry hadn’t been too keen at first. After all, it wasn’t like they didn’t have several places already. Harry had a flat above the shop in Hogsmeade, which he used occasionally, but he spent much more than half of his time in Snape’s rooms in the dungeon at Hogwarts. The holidays were spent in their true home under the mountain. But, as Snape pointed out, people were snoops. They wondered. There had always been a great deal of public wondering about The Boy Who Lived. Moving into their own official, public residence together would stop the speculation on several fronts, and help keep the secret of their other home.

They needed a large house. There were occasionally times Potter needed a place to entertain. He had his fingers in a rather large number of pies, now that he was an adult. The three room flat over the shop wasn‘t big enough for more than one person. Two if they were in bed. Although Harry had fond memories of the times Ron and Hermione had come over and spent the night, each of the guests in a transformed-into-a-bed sofa or chair, and Harry alone in the bed because Ron told him that the one time Ron had platonically shared the bed with Harry had been followed by two weeks of glares from Snape. Harry was pretty sure that Ron had made that up, but he did wonder if he hadn’t snuggled up to Ron in his sleep, the way he did with Severus. 

So Harry and Severus wanted a place of their own, and were planning ahead for the point when Severus stopped teaching. They wanted a house big enough for their work. Harry had expressed a wish for towers, for views, for interesting architecture and surprises. Severus wanted storage, secret rooms, a laboratory, libraries and unique fireplaces. They had also decided that as long as they were building, they would put a small cottage by the road and have a greenhouse tucked down the slope from the east wing. The greenhouse location was chosen because it was the only place with room for the building that was far enough away from the mountain to be safe from falling rock. 

They agreed that the east wing would have a small suite each for their friends, Ron and Hermione. There would be a big open multi-purpose room below the suites. The west wing, nearest the road would have a drawing room, dining room, sun room with terrace, and kitchens. On the floor above these would be four guest bedrooms. The main house between the wings had dungeons and cellars below. Above that, three rooms. One would be an open area, with a large table, for meetings. On one side of this, a potions laboratory and office for Severus and on the other side, a smaller work room and office for Harry. Harry’s workroom opened out into a garden.

The floor above their work area would be given over to a huge library, mostly filled with Potter's growing collection. Snape's books remained inside the mountain. 

Then, there was their bedroom. The house would be at the base of the cliff, but to get to Harry and Sev‘s room one would climb a fantastic enclosed staircase which hugged the side of the rock up to a marvelous room built into the cliff, above the main part of the house. The bedroom was not as large as Severus‘ in the mountain, but it had one wall of windows and looked out across the tops of the trees over the valley. They planned to have a huge and very comfortable bed. 

They were building the house themselves, as wizards often did. So the four friends had been studying building, plumbing, and magical and Muggle regulations. Part of the house would be visible to Muggles. It would be unplotable, however, with wards that would rival those of Hogwarts. 

Harry had been working on bits for the house for years. In fact, he had started the very night they had decided to build. It gave him a goal. It gave Severus something to tease him about. 

So this evening Potter was, as usual, seated in a corner of the potions laboratory at Hogwarts. Severus was marking a stack of parchments, the summer work turned in by the seventh year students. Harry had chopped the pile of lacewing eyes to something just larger than powder for Severus, read a chapter in the new book about magical construction Hermione had sent to him last week, worked on the design of the mosaic which would be on the floor of the main foyer of their new house, and he was now leaning back in his chair, studying Snape.

“Potter,” Snape warned him, without looking up from his task..

“Just admiring my good taste,” Potter replied, with a lazy smile.

Snape gave a delicate snort. “I know what that means.”

“Well, yes, I was thinking of luring you to bed,” Potter agreed with a nod. “You’ll not get that lot done tonight anyway. Why don’t you just….”

He was interrupted by a knock. Potter looked over towards the door in surprise. They seldom had visitors at this hour of the night. He cast the charm which would give the identity of the visitor and they both eyed with dismay the wavery image which appeared.

“What did you do to annoy the Headmistress this time?” Harry asked, as Snape went to the door. 

“Minerva,” Snape said as he opened the door. The Headmistress had changed little in the last decade, although her hair was now mostly white. She entered at his gesture, nodded to Harry as he offered her a cheerful hello, and took the seat Severus indicated. She declined tea. Her glance at Harry told them it was school business, but he just smiled at her in the way that said unless she deliberately asked him to leave, he was staying. He usually did. As he knew how to keep his mouth shut, she seldom asked for privacy if he were here when she came to see the potions master. Harry was inclined to have useful suggestions and on the whole she was not unappreciative of his help.

“I have come to you about a problem,” she said, with no preamble.

“One of my little snakes.” Snape didn’t make it a question. He’d known from the look on her face.

“Your niece, in fact.”

Well, that explained the strained look, and the glance at Potter. She wasn’t sure how private the matter was.

“What trouble has she caused?” Snape asked in his cool voice. The one which hid if he were angry or not. 

“It’s not precisely trouble. Severus, what can you tell me about her background? Her father, perhaps?”

“Nothing.”

“You know I am not one to pry. I would not ask if it were not important,” she chided. 

“I’m not being obstructive, I’m being factual. My family is not close. I did not even know of her existence until her name was called for the sorting.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Minerva, would you get to the point?”

“The point is, I’m not sure what prompted her invitation to Hogwarts. The child is practically a squib.”

That seemed to startle Severus a bit. Harry leaned forward and said, “Why do you say that?”

“She’s not doing well in any of her classes. She tries hard, I must say. I went and watched her in Transfigurations today. The teacher gave the proper information, the lesson was easy. She follows instructions as best she can. But the others are getting ahead of her and she is becoming frustrated and angry. Her classmates are beginning to tease her.”

Harry was the one who frowned at this. The invitations to attend Hogwarts were based on several factors. At least one adult had to attest to the child’s magical ability before the invitation was sent. There had been occasions when mistakes had been made. If a child hadn’t enough magic to be successful at Hogwarts, then he or she should be transferred as quickly as possible to a more appropriate school. This was very serious.

Severus said, “Have you spoken to all her teachers? I haven’t noticed anything odd in my class. She’s quiet, obedient and no more incompetent that the others.” Snape had seated himself in the chair with the arms. He rested his elbows on the wooden arms and laced his hands together as he thought.

“But you don’t encourage ‘foolish wand waving,’ ” McGonagall reminded him. “Perhaps it won’t show up in your class until much later in the year.” She signed. “I thought I would talk to you before I spoke to her. I was hoping that late magic ran in your family.”

“The family talents are…erratic. If my memory serves, her mother was not outstanding in ability, but she *was* a witch. We have a brother who is almost a squib.”

“You know nothing about the father, you say? Severus, I know you dislike conversing with children, but as she has formed no obvious attachments among the other students or the faculty, I think it falls to you to have a small discussion with her. Several, perhaps. You may have to win her confidence. Find out what her background is, the name of the father would be useful to sort out the type of problem. It's not in the records.”

Severus Snape looked like he had bitten down on a lemon, but he nodded. 

“Let us speak again later in the week, and you can tell me what you have learned,” she said as she stood up.

“As you wish,” Snape repeated as he escorted her to the door. As soon as it closed with a click, he whirled and stomped back to the chair, throwing himself down and scowling across at Harry.

“Invite the child here tonight to meet me. Then, if she isn’t forthcoming to you, I can have a go at her,” Harry suggested.

Snape’s scowl deepened. 

“We won‘t have take long with this first meeting.” Potter’s smile promised that he would still be luring his lover to bed later. 

“Potter, you are an optimist.” Snape told him, and he headed for the Slytherin common room. Once there he sent the nearest third year girl for his niece. Forsythia arrived, her eyes big with anxiety, and wordlessly followed him when he ordered her to do so. Neither of them spoke during the walk through the dim hallways to his door. He was not at all surprised to find the lights all on, and a tray of cakes on the table before the fire with a steaming pot of hot chocolate beside it. Potter stood as they walked in. He’d changed the color of his robe to a cheerful spring green and had made an attempt to tame his hair. His smile was shy but genuine.

“This is my friend and associate, Harry Potter. Harry, my niece. Forsythia.” Snape went and brought the hot chocolate over, handing round the cups before he sat in his chair again.

“Hello,” Harry said with a smile. “I’m glad to finally meet you. You can call me Uncle Harry, if you like?” Harry said, and passed her a plate of cake. Her hands shook as she took a small slice and handed the plate back. “How do you like Hogwarts?” he asked her, ignoring the roll of Snape‘s eyes which he could see over her shoulder.

“It’s nice,” she said in a flat small voice, and took a cautious sip of her hot chocolate. The drink was excellent, of course. The house elves always brought Potter the best. 

“Doing well in your classes?” Harry asked casually.

She nodded. 

There was a small silence. “You’d lie to Harry Potter?” Harry asked in mock horror.

“Oh, no, sir!” Two spots of red bloomed in her pale cheeks.

“But you did!” Harry observed “I know it can be strange here at first. I had trouble from the beginning, too.” He leaned forward and said conspiratorially, “One of my teachers hated me on sight.” He did not look towards his lover. It would have been hard to keep a straight face. “Is one of the teachers giving you a problem?”

“No, sir.”

“That would be, no, Uncle Harry. Or just, no, Harry. Don’t call me sir. I’m not your teacher.“ Harry’s winning grin didn’t seem to work on her. Snape seemed to find that amusing. 

“Stop confusing her, Potter. You’re hardly a relative, either.” 

“Your uncle’s boyfriend isn’t a relative?” He mimed shock.

A tiny smile flitted across Forsythia’s face. Harry winked at her and said, “I can be the best kind of a relative. The kind you choose for yourself. I‘ve always much preferred picking out my own.” He took a sip of his chocolate. She took another drink too, apparently because it gave her something to do when she had nothing to say. 

“I soon came to love it here,” Harry said. “But then, I was a Gryffindor.”

“You were?” she gasped, plainly horrified. 

“Hey now. We’re nice enough when you get to know us. Although I’m a sort of hybrid with Slytherin, now. I help all the house teams with Quidditch. Do you fly?” Harry asked.

“Yes. I didn’t get to bring my broom,” she said in a quiet voice that was just above a whisper.

“What kind was it?” Harry asked, leaning forward. He was always interested in talking brooms.

“I don’t know. I think it was very old,” she added uncertainly. 

“I just got a new broom. I shouldn’t have, because the one I had wasn’t that old. On the other hand, that means I have several brooms. Perhaps we could go flying,” Harry suggested. 

“Oh.” A trace of animation came into her face at the prospect and she nodded. 

Snape lifted the chocolate pot and refilled all the cups. She risked a small smile at him as well, and took another drink of chocolate. 

Snape said, “Tell me, have you brothers and sisters?”

“No, sir.” 

“Have you cousins on your mother’s side? Do my brothers have children?” Snape asked.

“No. Or--I don’t think so. I have not seen the uncles often. They don't visit us. We went to visit the oldest one last year, but I haven't seen the other one since I was really young,” she added.

Snape nodded. He focused on his niece, making sure he had her full attention before saying, “I shall be direct. I put a potion in the chocolate.” He ignored the gasp from Potter and the clatter of his cup as it hit the table. “Not in yours, Potter,” Snape added as his lover’s reaction.

Forsythia's eyes went wide and her glance went from Potter to Snape, and then to her cup before she looked down at the floor.

“The headmistress came to me and said you were having significant difficulties your classes. I could, of course, have wasted an extraordinary amount of time gaining your confidence and plucking the truth from you with guile and cunning. Frankly, I did not wish to bother, and it would have been an unreliable method at best. I have learned, in twenty years of teaching, that it much better to put my trust in potions than to rely on human nature. I am not the type children confide in, and Potter, although he means well, is not the sort of confidant you might normally select.”

“I say!” Harry exclaimed, sounding very much like his friend Ron.

‘Use your brain, Potter. You’re hardly a father figure and I scarcely think she would confide in the savior of the wizarding world.”

“Remind me again why I like you?”

“It’s always been a mystery to me, Potter. Stop wasting our time. She still has homework to do tonight, you know.”

Potter waved for him to get on with it. Snape gave a nod and turned to Forsythia. “Why are you having problems with your schoolwork?”

“I don’t know!” she wailed, but then choked it back as Snape gave her his Head of House glare. He was in no mood to deal with hysterics and weeping.

“Let us start with your background. You’ve been to school?” he asked.

“I was tutored at home,” she explained in a tiny voice. 

“Was your teacher competent?” he asked.

“How could she know that? What did she have to compare it to?” Harry wanted to know. The Snape glare was directed his way but Harry had, by now, years of practice ignoring it. Snape, however, gave a short nod to acknowledge that Potter might have a point. 

“What spell were you best at?” Snape pressed.

“I don’t have a..urm..I draw bees.”

“You what?” Potter asked, his brows furrowing as he tried to make sense of that.

“In the orchard, when the bees were needed. I can draw them to our blossoms, even from miles away,” she said.

“Hedge magic,” Snape said with a sigh. “What spells can you do? Sarpendio? Jelly Legs? What?”

“I know lifting spells and digging spells,” she said, doubtfully. 

“Do one.” Snape gestured impatiently. “Get out your wand and do one,” he elaborated.

Her hand went to her pocket and she pulled out her wand. The gesture she made was feeble, the words whispered and none of them were surprised when nothing at all happened.

“Why didn’t it work?” Harry asked.

“Nothing works here!” the childish frustration made her voice shrill. Snape winced.

“Maybe if we went outside?” Harry suggested. 

“Yes, I suppose that could be a factor,” Snape growled, and led the way out of the room, up the steps, through the corridors and out the great doors of Hogwarts. It was a pretty evening, with a bit of a breeze. The three of them walked towards the lake. It was getting dark, and there was not much of a moon. With a snap of his fingers, Snape summoned some light. “Try again,” he ordered, when they came to a stop on the path. Forsythia tried again. The result was the same.

“Are you too upset for the magic to work?” Harry asked.

She shrugged, her head turned away from them. 

“Try again. Any spell which is familiar to you, which you have done before,” Snape ordered. Again, nothing.

Harry said, “It’s odd. There are no sparks from her wand. Perhaps it’s been hexed or broken.”

“Let me see your wand.” Snape held out his hand. She placed the wand in his palm, tail end first as was proper. As his hand closed around the butt of the wand, Snape held it out and gave an experimental flick. A sputter of sparks dribbled to the ground. He cast a lumos with it, and produced a faint glow which quickly dissipated. “Potter.” Snape held out the wand to the other man, who held it firmly and flicked. A line of dull red appeared, and then a few sparks. His lumos was just as unremarkable.

 

“Well, it's working, but it's not much of a wand. Why did you pick this one?” Harry asked, turning to Forsythia and handing it back. “It seems a balky thing.”

“My mother gave it to me,” the girl said. When both men stared at her, she added, “It was in my trunk.”

“You didn’t go and get it before school started? In Diagon Alley?” Harry asked. 

“I’ve never been there,” she said. 

They stood there in the near dark. The breeze came up again, sharp with the first hint of fall and the damp scent of shore and water. 

“Well, it’s clear the first thing we need to do is get this young lady a proper wand,” Potter announced. “I’m sure Miss McGonagall will allow us to take her this Saturday.”

“Us, Potter?”

“You don’t think I’m going to let you take her by yourself? One’s first trip to Diagon Alley should be unforgettable, you know. And include ice cream.” Harry still made it a point to have ice cream when he went shopping there.

Snape gave a snort, the one which implied that his own had not been remarkable and he saw no reason perpetuate such a fantasy. But they both knew they would all be going. 

Snape said, “I will have you excused from practical application in classes until you have a proper wand. However, I expect you to pay attention and not fall behind in the reading.”

“Yes, Uncle,” she said. 

“I will be keeping this…stick.” Snape tucked her wand into his inner pocket. Instead of leading the way back to the castle, he turned and continued to walk around the lake. He was on the lake side of the path and Potter the far side, with the young lady between them. After a few minutes of silence, he asked, “Do you know why your mother did not get you a proper wand?”

“She never talked about wands. I don't know.”

“Does she have a wand herself?” Potter asked. 

“She has a white one.” 

“A white one.” Words could hardly describe Snape’s flat echo of her words. “Tell me about your mother.”

“I don’t…she’s pretty," Forsythia began, doubtfully.

“Is she? I don’t remember her so. I believe she was seventeen when last I saw her, however. Tell me what she does all day. Who her friends are.”

“I don’t know her friends. They stay downstairs. I’m not to go down while people are there. There’s a man who comes a lot. She…mother has orchards and a garden, and two people who work for her. Old Len Harper and Sally Jersey.”

“The orchards. I remember hearing about them,” Harry said, more or less to himself. He frowned.

Forsythia look up, a trace of animation finally coming to her voice as she said, “We have the best orchards in the county. Six different orchards and over thirty kinds of apples. The oldest tree bears Hartly’s Fancy, which is a magical apple and very uncommon. The oldest orchard will be gone, soon, the trees only bear a few dozen fruits each year. We have Wild Coppers, Golden Pippen, Redstreak, Annie Beth, Highland and a few Shimmerheart. The Shimmerheart is the newest. I think my mother invented them herself. She’s known for her skills in grafting.”

Both of the men were rather startled to hear so much come out of her mouth.

“Do you help in the orchards?” Harry asked.

“Yes. I like it better there than in the house,” she said. “Sometimes I even sleep outside.”

“What do you do, besides call the bees?” Snape asked. 

“I help move the water. I help with the harvest. I pack the apples in the baskets. Sometimes I make baskets. We send apples to twelve different shops and to individuals through owl order. Do you think Dumbledore would buy apples from Morning Star Orchards? Our apples are the best.”

“Perhaps. I know nothing of the methods used to acquire food for this ravening horde. I assume that finances are not a problem, then? Your orchards make money enough to support the family?” Snape slowed down a little. It was now quite dark. They had reached the far edge of the lake, at the turn-off to Hogsmeade. The lights of the town twinkled and the street lights glowed. Potter slowed. Snape glanced at him, knew what he was thinking and said, “Yes, perhaps that would be a good idea.”

Without further communication, the two men stepped off the path and began to walk up the street. They stopped before a small inn and Potter held open the heavy wooden door, allowing Snape and his niece to step through to the small pub which was attached. They took a table not far from the door, but well away from anyone else. Snape ordered apple juice for the girl and butterbeers for Harry and himself. Then he cast a privacy spell.

“Your orchards support the family?” Snape asked again.

“I…believe so,” she said uncertainly. 

"You had enough to eat?" Snape asked.

"Yes. But not as good as what is at Hogwarts. I never went hungry. At home, there were always apples, and bread and butter, if I missed a meal. The house elf let me have it."

"Did you miss meals often?" Harry asked.

"When I was out in the orchards, especially in the summer, sometimes I would forget until it got dark." Her apple juice arrived. She took a sip and said, "Fresh this year. Ours is much better," she added as an aside. But she took a deep drink as soon as she stopped speaking.

"Tell me about your teacher," Snape said. "How did she teach you?"

"She left me books to read and I had to copy out pages from each one, and then tell about the rest of it from that point. Then each day we would memorize a new spell. I'd have to learn to spell the name, and tell what it did. We did maths and sometimes history."

"But no magic?"

"She said it wasn't allowed."

Snape's lip turned up. "She was lazy. There are exceptions made for instructors in a magical household. No reason to be so pedestrian in her approach. Did you learn potions?"

"Some," she said cautiously.

"We've covered four basic potions so far this term. Did you know any of them before we started?" 

"I knew the base potion. I helped make that in the kitchens sometimes. Only we always made it with ginger powder instead of fresh roots. The fresh root does make it better," she told him, with a nod.

The serious look on her face as she was telling Snape his own business made Harry laugh. Two identical dark looks darted his way. He stifled his next impulse for hilarity and let a neutral expression settle on his face. He could laugh later.

"Give me your impression of your classes. Transfiguration?"

"Hard. They don‘t explain it enough."

"History of Magic?"

"Strange. The ghost isn't very interesting. Sometimes he fades away and it is just his voice. I don't like that."

Snape straightened up a bit and he traded a glance with Harry. That was new. Perhaps it was time to begin interviewing history professors. Although trying to squeeze one more salary out of the budget should give Minerva kittens. Dull as Binns was, it was an advantage that he did not require payment. 

"Charms?"

"I can't get them to work. Professor Flitwick is funny," she added. Then she blushed. "Oh, I don't mean the way he looks. The scars and the limp. I mean his jokes."

"Yes, thank you. Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"I don't understand the professor," she confessed. "Not just the accent. I never studied that before."

Snape nodded. "Are you having difficulty in Madam Hooch's class?"

"Not really. The brooms are faster than mine, and they feel different, so I've fallen off several times. We're supposed to work on turns this week." She took another gulp of the juice and added, “It’s fun, except for the falling off. They laugh at me.”

"Do you take Divination?" Snape asked next.

She nodded. "I try, really I do, but all I see in the tea leaves are tree branches and things. The teacher doesn't like me."

"I was always pants at it, too," Harry interjected. "Ron and I used to make things up just to make her happy." He realized what he had said and quickly added, "Looking back on it, I'm sure she knew exactly what we were doing."

Snape said, "I believe I will speak to the headmistress about changing that course. You might do well in arithmancy, as you've had maths. Did your mother specify your classes, or did you take the standard course?" 

"I don't know," came the soft reply.

"I didn't even know you could select your own beginning course until I had left," Harry said. "I was raised by Muggles, though."

"Samantha said Muggleborns were stupid and Helena hit her and told her to stop being a fool," Forsythia reported, and then gave her head of house an uncertain look. She already knew that telling tales could reap a great deal of grief.

Snape ignored the comment. "This is Thursday. Saturday, in the morning at nine, I will take you to Diagon Alley. We will floo, which means we will be using Professor McGonagal's office."

"I'm coming, too!" Harry said.

"If so, that means you will be using some restraint, fiscal and otherwise," Snape warned him.

"You say that as if I make a habit of...just what are you suggesting, anyway?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"That I'm going to stick you with taking her to Madame Malkins while I stop by Potions & Parts?" A smile crossed the thin lips.

"Potions and Parts? I heard there was a new shop with some innovative ideas--is that where you're going?" Harry turned to Forsythia and explained, "Instead of just popping into a shop and picking through whatever is in stock, you give the order and they go gather things fresh, and they'll go find very specific types of herbs for you. They are buying some of their stock from my friend Neville Longbottom, and his herbs are outstanding."

Snape rolled his eyes. Forsythia stifled a giggle. Snape said, "Look over your belongings. If it seems you are lacking any vital item in your school supplies, or if the quality of something is poor, make note of it and tell me before we leave," Snape said. "Do you have all your school books?"

"Yes."

Snape decided to check on the type and quality of her belongings himself. There was something just a little flat in that one word reply. "Drink your juice," he said. "We must be getting back"

She obeyed and they left the pub. Harry walked on one side of her, Severus on the other. It was a nice night, with early autumn crispness scenting the air. By midnight it would be cold and a cloak would be needed, but right now the brisk walk was keeping them warm.

There was a noise, far off on the water. Harry squinted and said, "The squid is watching us."

"Is there really a giant squid in the lake? I thought the others were making up stories, again," Forsythia said. 

"There is. But he usually keeps to himself," Harry replied. "What sort of stories do they tell you?"

"The squid will grab you if you walk too near the shore. Ghosts. Do the ghosts really smother children in their sleep?"

Snape answered, "What do *you* think?"

She hesitated, then said, "People wouldn't send their children here if they were going to be killed."

"Quite right. Not that stupid children don't manage to get killed upon occasion. Try not to be stupid," Snape admonished her.

"Yes, sir."

When they were well away from the village Snape spoke again. "Do you know your father's name?"

"No." She sounded reluctant.

"Do you know anything about the man at all?" Snape prodded.

There was a long silence. Finally, Forsythia said, "All I know is what I heard one night at harvest. I listened to the tinkers who were helping, while they talked around the fire one night. They said my mother did ancient fertility spells, that a man told her it would really help renew the trees and the orchard and it did help, a little, but mostly everybody thought he was just telling her that. To. Umm." Even in the dark one could this topic made her blush.

Snape ignored the blush and implications and said. "You do not remember him? Does he visit?"

"No. If he did, mother would yell at him. She's still mad. She says she's going to hex his...parts off if she ever sees him again."

Harry said, "What does she do when she gets mad at you? Does she yell and throw things, or hex with her wand?" 

"She tells me to get out of her sight. I do, because otherwise she thinks up things she wants me to do, like fill the wheelbarrow for the pigs at the farm down the lane." She pretended to hold her nose. Pigs were obviously not her favorite animals.

"But she doesn't hit you or hex you?" Potter persevered.

"Once, she slapped me when I broke a branch off one of the trees. It was an accident!" he voice rose with remembered indignation.

"No need for hysterics," Snape told her. "Remember, you are Slytherin. If you are going to have emotional outbursts, at least make them under circumstances that will be advantageous to you."  
Harry laughed, but Forsythia took the advice seriously and nodded, her face solemn in the dim light of the moon. 

"Now," Snape said as they approached the castle, "Although I have the right as a relative and as head of house to question you on these matters, the potion may have changed the extent of your answers. It's only fair we offer to make it up to you. We will take you to get a new wand, which we will pay for. Harry will get you several items of clothing and make sure you have ice cream. In addition we will buy you the book of your choice, one priced under 20 galleons."

"A book?" she asked doubtfully.

"We'll find one you like," Harry promised, as they reached the door. 

They quietly went down the steps together, leaving Forsythia at the door to the common room. Severus went to check secretly on his Slytherins and Harry went on to their rooms, where he took his shower. Once Severus was back and their doors were shut and warded Harry said, "Even with the potion, she didn't talk as much as most young girls. Was she beating the potion and holding back?"

"No. She merely has little to say. No doubt the result of growing up with few people with whom a conversation was possible. At least she had a teacher." Severus sat down, rubbing his hands over his face, the tips of his fingers digging into the corners of his eyes. 

"Is most of the potion out of her system? Her dormitory mates might take advantage of her," Harry worried.

"The apple juice will help to neutralize it. She went to bed without her bath, which implies to me that there is something she wishes to avoid in the bathroom--or perhaps she is smart enough to keep herself away from others until the potion is gone."

"Or are they teasing in the bathrooms again?" Harry asked from their own bathroom, where he was brushing his teeth. Snape scowled. Last year it had become a problem and if it started up again this year he was going to make the miscreants the most miserable children in Scotland. Harry said, "I know you were thinking of retiring as soon as the house was finished. Now I think we will be here seven more years."

"She means nothing to us. There is no reason to change our plans because of her," Snape said, standing up and following Harry to the bathroom. He stripped off his clothing efficiently.

"I know. But she doesn't seem to have anyone else." Harry was pulling his sleeping robe on over his head. 

"Still no reason to endure the nonsense for another -- the horror -- two thousand days." Snape said it as he stepped into the shower. When he stepped out again, toweling his hair dry before finishing it with a spell, he found Harry already in bed.

He stopped to look. Eight years and two months since Harry had climbed into the huge dragon bed, and, gloriously nude, had demanded that Severus make love to him.

They'd hardly left the bed for a week. They'd slept and made love, they'd talked, and read. They had *not* eaten their meals in bed. Those had been taken in front of the fire, and one or two in the kitchen. One late breakfast had been eaten as they sat on the stairs, a picnic of sorts where they wore trousers as a concession to the cold stone, and nothing else.

They'd gone an entire week without arguing over anything more important than who got the last pastry on the dish.

"What are you thinking?" Harry asked with lazy interest.

"That's it's time to apply your maintenance potion again."

It was a day or two early, but Harry didn't demure. Who wouldn't love having every inch--literally--of your body rubbed with a special lotion custom made by your lover to ensure that your skin was pliable and healthy?

"Umm!" he said encouragingly. Their rules said that while Severus was applying the potion, Harry could moan and wiggle, but he couldn't take hold of Snape or distract him from his task, because it made the man forget where he was and then they had to start all over again! 

Tonight, Snape began with Harry’s feet, rubbing each bony toe, the arch of each foot, the bony knob of the ankle and the roughness of the heel. He got all the way up to the left knee before he muttered a few desperate words and pulled the sprawling body up under his. A quick fumble with the potion and Snape was swiftly applying it internally, delivering it quite personally, over and over, while Harry shrieked and begged and demanded. Snape's personal stamina was up to the task of thorough application. Harry almost always came first, still shouting as he did his geyser imitation and that enchanting convulsion which massaged Snape's entire length and usually triggered his own climax. And when Harry was collapsed and empty, panting madly, Snape would draw his fingers through the sticky lines and globs of Harry's ejaculate, checking to make sure that the were no sand-like granules hidden inside. 

If the stuff was normal, as it usually was, then Harry could, if he had the inclination, reciprocate as soon as he was recovered enough. If not, then Snape would take a certain potion and soon mount him again.

Harry was always quieter the second time around, although still groaning and gasping. He would hook a foot or arm around the undulating body, trying to pull the thrusting thickness deeper into his body, straining so that it would be at the deepest when his lover froze in place and let it flow into him.

This evening, they didn't get to the second part of the agenda. Harry's eyes were closing even as his lover pulled from his body. He lay as limp as a noodle during the brief inspection of his ejaculate, and didn't even twitch when it was spelled away. He was asleep before Snape had left the bed. 

After a brief visit to the toilet, Snape pulled on his robes and his soft leather slippers, and went to check the dormitories.

Severus, a weekend in September 

Going to Diagon Alley with Forsythia Snape proved to be a very odd experience. Without the incentive of a potion, she did not have much to say, and after several attempts to start conversations with her, Harry gave up and talked about school matters to Severus. Since she was walking between them, they were speaking over her head. She did not seem to mind. She looked with curiosity at everything, but did not comment on any of it. It was clear that she had not flooed very often and was nervous about it, but managed it successfully and with more aplomb than Harry, who still had a tendency to stumble as he emerged. They stepped out into what looked like a small sitting room; there was only one chair by the fire, and three cloak racks by the door. The carpet was a very nice one of blue with a pattern of Roman stripes around the edge. The door opened.

A pretty young woman with coppery red hair leaned in. "I thought I heard the floo! How wonderful to see you both! And who is this?"

"Forsythia Snape. My niece. Forsythia, this is Ginevra Weasely. We are in the back of her establishment."

"My store is called the Family Emporium and how nice to meet you. Perhaps we'll get a chance to talk later." She turned to the men and said, "What marvelous things have you brought me? I'm getting more and more requests for your potions." She gave a small whirl of happiness. 

Snape handed over a large basket. She peeked under the cloth cover. "Twenty bottles of your Ache Away, oh, good, and thirty of...?"

"What you asked me to bring. The potion which relieves the monthly pains of women." He added, "We tried six combinations. I tested all six on volunteers from the Slytherin ranks, since it could not hurt them and it provided some benefit. The girls all assure me this combination is the best of the ones we have developed so far."

"What were the costs?"

"A galleon per gallon to make, plus my time, and the bottles. Each bottle holds half a pint. The dosage is a spoonful, once every four hours. It stays good for about five years."

"A galleon a bottle to you, then?” she suggested. “I’ll sell them for two. I could probably ask for more, but it will bring in a good many customers,” the proprietress said and turning to Harry said, "Have you got anything for me this time?"

"Sorry, love! Been busy with the house. I don't think I'll have anything until November, for Christmas."

Ginny pouted. "Slacker," she teased, "And if you have something for the Christmas trade, it had better be in to me by Halloween, not November. People are already buying for Christmas, can you believe it? Come out and see my new display!" She led the way through the door into a stockroom, and from there through the narrow isle to a half door which opened out behind a counter. 

The store was one of those colorful jumbles which look hap-hazard but were actually artfully arranged to catch the shopper's eye. There was a display of potions on shelves behind the counter. Out in the main store there were islands of gift items, candles, knit scarves in autumn colors and charmed items. One corner of the store held a display of Christmas ornaments, and another held cooking paraphernalia. Several customers wandered the isles.

The new display was packets of herbs for the bath, piled up in a variety of red wooden baskets. "Do you like it?" she asked them. The men said yes. Obviously needing more enthusiasm than that, Ginny looked at Forsythia and said, "What do you think?"

"You should have apples in the apple baskets."

Ginny blinked and said, "Well, perhaps," she said doubtfully, still a little surprised by what had seemed to her to be a non-sequitur. 

"You need to buy our apples. We have the best," the child said. 

"I'll owl an inquiry if you'll give me an address,' Ginny told her. "I'm always looking for good stock." She waited expectantly. The child obviously did not know the address. 

"The orchard is near Hexley, and is called Morning Star," Snape offered. "I don't know what sort of arrangements you can make, but as a warning, I suggest you don't mention anything except that Forsythia recommended them to you. My sister and I are not on excellent terms."

"Oh? Fresh apples would be nice to add to the display, she's right." She smiled down at the little girl, whose solemn face did not offer a smile back. "Speaking of food," she said to Harry, "on your way back, bring me a few buns from the bakery, if you would, and take over the till for me for a few minutes so I can eat? Mum was going to give me my break, but Percy's youngest girl has managed to break a leg and they're all over at St. Mungo's."

"Do you need a break now?" Harry asked. "I can catch up to them."

"No, not now, thanks."

"We'll see you, then!" Harry led the way out of the shop. The door led to the street at the smaller end of Diagon Alley. Together, the small group made their way up the street. "What first?" Harry asked.

"The wand," Severus replied and they were soon entering a small and dusty shop. No one arrived to help them at first, but eventually a small man appeared behind the desk. 

"Ah, Mr. Potter. I remember you. Quite troublesome, your search for a wand, wasn't it? Not at all like our friend Mr. Snape. He found his match quite quickly. Is this the person who needs a wand? A little late to get a wand for school, I should think. Did yours break?" he asked the girl.

Before she could answer, Snape said, "She was given a family wand, but it is inadequate." He set the wand in question on the counter. 

"Yes, I see! Inadequate is an excellent term! A Quanter," the old man said with completely unconcealed scorn.

"A what?" Harry asked.

"Hiram Quanter made and sold wands a quarter of a century ago. Quite miserable things, some of them, but others at least decent, which was quite frustrating. This is not one of the better ones. I'll insist on taking this as a trade-in, to protect wizarding kind by getting it off the street." He gave a sniff of disapproval and poked at the stick with his own wand. "I see it has a core of harpy feather, but it was not preserved properly and it has turned to fragments and dust. It won't work well for anyone." He shook his head sadly. "To the task, then. Try this." He pulled out a wand box from under the counter and held it out.

"Take it and give it a flick," Harry said. Rather uncertainly, Forsythia picked up the wand and gave it a wave. Very little happened. The old man produced another and they repeated the process.

Half an hour later, Harry was leaning forward over the counter, which was piled high with boxes and wands. He took the armful of boxes which Olivander handed to him, and found a place on the corner of the counter to balance them. Forsythia was looking frustrated and her lip was out. Her uncle was looking frustrated, too. 

She tried each of the new wands. They tried oak and dragon heartstring, and willow with unicorn hair, and were now down to yew with braided kneazle tail, and pine with pixie hair. 

At one point, the old man cast a spell to make sure Forsythia was magical at all, and for another half an hour he did detection spells and looked for hexes and hinder-charms. Her magic was evident, and there was no evidence that she was hexed or otherwise troubled.

At last the wand-maker looked at her directly, hand on hips and barked, "And how do you do magic, then, Missy?" 

Forsythia, who was a little cowed but mostly just resentful, said, "Children are not supposed to do magic."

"Ha! I know you, little girl. You're with Slytherin and you're a Snape. Don't tell me you haven't at least given it a try. How do you do magic, then?"

She glared at him, her little arms folded across her chest.

"I'd like to know that, too. It might solve this whole tangle," Harry said. "Do you just say the words? Or do you have a magical creature to help? I recently read some stories about children who used a pet crup to focus magic."

"I don't have a crup. Mother doesn't like animals."

"I see. But then how did you...let's say, get an apple from the top of a tree?" Harry asked.

"I say I want it and the tree lets it go, and I catch it."

"Okay, maybe that wasn't a good example. What about when you make a light at night under the covers to read by?" he asked next.

"Why would I do that?" she asked, frowning. 

"But...books are...we'll talk about that later, I guess, but..okay, calling bees. How do you call bees?"

She looked at him as if he were stupid. "I just...call them."

Snape looked down at her with his Head of House expression and said, "Turn out your pockets."

"What?" Harry asked, confused. 

"She must empty her pockets. If she has an object which she has unconsciously been using as a focus, she probably carries it with her. Empty your pockets."

Her lip, which had been out, extended a bit further, but she did not dare argue with her head of house. Slowly she reached into her pocket and took out her handkerchief and a sickle. She looked around for a place to put them down, but there were wands piled on every surface. Ollivander muttered a spell and gave a flick of his wand and the boxes and wands began sorting themselves out and then floating away. Meanwhile, Harry took her things and held them for her.

Out of the next pocket came a comb and a hair clip, and a twisted bit of broken twig. 

The old man snatched it up. "Ha! Haha!" He danced around, waving it madly.

"It's just a twig. A twig from my favorite tree, at home," she said. "Give it back!" she ordered as the man leaned over until his nose was practically touching it and began inspecting it.

"Have you had the branch long?" Harry asked.

"It's just a twig. I always play with them," she said.

"But twigs from the same tree, hummm?" the old man suggested. He handed it back to her. "Let me see. Use it as a wand."

She flicked it. Nothing happened.

"Humm. Humm. Now, here is what I will ask you to do. Go away. Come back in two hours. I will keep the wee stick," he said, plucking it from her hand.

"But...." She began indignantly.

"It will be all right. Let's go finish our shopping," Harry said. "Would you like to go to the robe shop or have our ice cream now?"

"I don't care!" she growled, her eyes on the retreating form of the wand maker.

"Robes it is! Severus, did you want to come with us?" Harry asked, knowing full well his lover did not.

"No. I will meet you back here in two hours," he said. To his niece he added, "Mind Mr. Potter as you would a teacher." With a swirl of his cloak he vanished out the door. Harry opened the door for her and she went out, but she wouldn't look at him. In silence they went down the street to Madam Malkins. 

A clerk hurried to wait on them. "What might we do your you today?" she asked by rote. She didn't observe him carefully enough to catch sight of his scar.

"We need a few things for Forsythia. A school robe or two, and a more formal robe, to start with. Whatever goes under them, too." Harry felt a little awkward. He should have consulted Hermione or brought her along, he realized.

"Very good. Perhaps you'd care to sit here? I'll bring you some samples." She flitted away. 

"What colors do you like?" Harry asked. 

There was silence from the spot to his right. Someone was in a snit.

Harry was used to Slytherins by now. He decided to wait this one out. They went about getting the clothing with only the minimum of conversation. She had definite opinions, he noticed, and at least her taste wasn't extreme. Getting three outfits from underwear up wasn't cheap, he noted. By the time he added a cloak and gloves, he could have bought another broom. 

But he saw when her hand went out to stroke the fabric of the cloak, and he saw the flash of her dark brown eyes when he added the sliver cloak pin with the Slytherin crest.

They shrank all the clothing and Harry stuffed them in his pocket. 

"It's half an hour before we have to be back. Do you want to look at the brooms at Quality Quidditch? Or we could look at the animals in Turner's or Eyeclops."

"The animals, please."

So they looked at the kittens and keazles, the crups and the pups, the rats and the toads and the owls. She was interested, but didn't seem to find any particular one of them fascinating. He had vaguely thought of getting her a pet, but rats put him off, and toads did not appeal. Crups and pups couldn't go to Hogwarts and all that left were keazles and owls. It seemed cruel to get her an owl, for it didn't seem likely that her mother would care if she wrote. But she didn't play with the kittens and keazles with much interest, so he was at a loss. Well, it was smarter not to buy one until consulting with Severus anyway. And there were some small expenses with having an animal. He remember the lone sickle in her pocket and wondered if her mother would be sending her spending money. From what he had heard so far, it probably would never cross the woman’s mind.

Well. He had never thought much of Snape's siblings anyway, seeing as how one or more of them was some sort of embezzler. 

They were a little late getting back to the wand shop. Severus was waiting for them and glanced pointedly at the clock, but as Ollivander had not shown up either, he didn't say anything. It was a full half hour before the man popped up again. He smiled at them and said, "Here, now!" and presented a wand.

"Eleven inches! Apple wood, with a custom designed core. I put your stick safely inside, little girl. Straightened it, painted it with a potion, wrapped it, spiral pattern, with a weave of one veela hair and three unicorn tail hairs. Then wrapped it all in a layer of apple wood, and polished it with beeswax. Try!"

She took it cautiously, but as her hand closed around it, a look of wonder came over her face, and as she gave the wand a flick, she was smiling. A golden whoosh of stars followed the tip of her wand, and the magic fairly glowed.

"Yes, that's done it!" The wandmaker was quite happy.

“Thank you,” Harry said. His foot nudged Forsythia. She murmured a thank you, but it was clear she was only focused on the wand.

"The price?" Snape asked dryly. 

"Not as much as you might fear, good sir. Twenty galleons. Not unreasonable, as you must admit."

"Custom work is usually more," Snape agreed, getting out his purse.

"Perhaps, but I haven't had such a challenge in years. Mind, child, you polish it up with beeswax every week or two! Apple is sometimes brittle, and it will give you slightly different results in the spring, summer, winter and autumn, so you'll have to learn the tricks of it."

Snape handed over the galleons and said a polite thanks, and Harry's was more effusive. Forsythia hardly noticed, busy swishing her wand and trying out the spells she had learned but not been able to cast. 

"Well, ice cream, or Weasley's?" Harry asked as they stepped out into the muted daylight. Clouds were moving in. 

"Lunch," Snape said. "Not the Leaky Cauldron," he added as Harry turned left. 

"The only thing close is The Merman."

"There are children I would not take inside the doors, but Forsythia has at least a modicum of manners." Severus led the way across the street and the other two followed.

Forsythia, who had never been out to a restaurant in her life, and who had severe doubts about it as they entered the dim interior, was quiet as they were seated at the table near the middle of the room. People were watching them. It was eerie. She stared down at the delicate place settings, her hands folded in her lap. She studied the menu with silent intensity and ordered the cod with a small clear voice. She looked to both sides and copied the adults when she was in doubt. She ate her fish quickly and then determinedly set to work on her potatoes and vegetables, leaving her plate clean. When offered pudding she said yes, please and ate every bite of it. She waited patiently while the adults talked, and tried to make sense of the conversation, her dark eyes darting from one speaker to the other.

When they were finished, Uncle Severus paid, and they all went out to the street again. The day was getting progressively more grey and the wind was up. They were all glad to follow Harry as he ducked into a shop. Only it wasn't a shop, it was a madhouse. Things whizzed and banged along the edge of the ceiling, and signs flashed and flickered trying to lure a buyer into stopping to examine the product. There were more people inside than there had been in the other places.

"Look! It's Professor Snape!" called out the man behind the counter. He was tall, and thin, and had red hair and a lively face. "Hey, George!" At that call, an identical red head leaned out from the door to the back room. "Ho! Harry, too!" the second man shouted cheerfully. "Did you come to try our new, improved--look! They're escorted! How did the two of you manage to find yourself a pretty young woman?" the man teased as he came out to join his brother.

"My niece, Forsythia. Forsythia, I present, with trepidation, George and Fred Weasley. Their products are very popular among the students. I suggest you vow to never let yourself be caught with any in your possession."

"You're a hard man, Professor. Cruel to the infant! Pranks and jokes such as ours are the heart of childhood, an experience to look back on fondly in your doddering old age!" Fred said dramatically. 

"Have I yet expressed my dismay over your new line of exploding eggs?" Snape said.

"Guaranteed to leave you awake and ready to face the day. Ten times better than coffee," George assured him.

"Professor McGonagal does not think so. Fortunately for you, she does not yet realize you are the source."

"She's a smart old cat, so she will, soon enough. We have that covered, though. Been doing her a few little favors through the years." Fred gave an exaggerated wink.

"One hopes they were significant," Snape murmured. He directed the aside not to Harry, but to Forsythia. If anyone had been looking, they would have seen a smirk cross her face. Anyone who had an acquaintance with Snape would have seen a certain resemblance. 

"We can't stay. Just popped in to say hello," Harry said with regret. "We'll be flooing from Ginny's, do you need anything taken down to her shop?"

"Not this time." Fred said, coming up beside him. He slipped something in Harry's pocket as he stopped, mouthed, "For the kid," when he knew Severus couldn't see his face. 

Harry winked and said, "Say hello to your parents for me. Are they back from St. Mungo's?"

"Oh, yeah, no problem. Simple break. Leah is taking after us instead of her stick in the mud father," Fred said proudly.

"Serves Percy right," George added cheerfully. "Make sure you come again before Halloween. We've got some new stock from Argentina ordered," he said, his grin breaking out at the thought of it. He escorted them to the door and waved them off.

The next stop was Florish and Blotts for a few purchases. Letting Forsythia wander about a bit, to no resulting expression of interest on her part, Snape solved the book problem by buying her a book of fruit based spells and potions. Potter bought her some current magazines, telling her, "Look them over, so you know what the students are interested in, and then you leave them in the common room for others. Make sure some of the upper years see you doing it," he advised. Slytherins who provided magazines and books for the common room bought a bit of extra status. "Tell me which one you like best and I'll get you a subscription. Then you can get owls delivering them. Everyone should get a bit of mail."

That sounded good, and she nodded and said her thank you quite nicely. She was looking at a magazine, following just a little behind, when they came to the bakery. She surprised them all by asking for cherry tarts instead of apple, when Harry inquired if she would like something. When they left, she had a packet of biscuits to share with her dorm mates, and they carried a package for Ginny, and a larger one for Ginny to send to the Burrow. Harry had deduced that everyone would go back to the Burrow, and with a lot of family around, perhaps Molly and Arthur might like some help feeding the crowd. 

It was starting to rain when they ducked in to the Emporium. Ginny was wrapping a bottle of potion for a woman and and tucking the money into the till. No other customers were in the shop. 

"Had a nice steady stream of people in today," she told them as she unwrapped the packet of pastry and scooped one up. Her face scrunched in ecstasy at the first bite. "Anybody else want one of these? You, poppet?" she asked Forsythia, who silently shook her head no.

"Sold that set of six icicles, Harry. Could use two or three more sets. Also sold the Father Christmas figure. She said it reminded her of Albus Dumbledore. I wondered if you'd like to do more that look like him? People remember him very fondly, I've discovered."

"Maybe. I never really know what's going to come out of my fingers, you know," Harry said, hoisting himself up to sit on the counter. He looked up at Severus, who was straightening the potion bottles on the shelves behind the counter. "We should take your niece with us when we go visit him. He might like to see a Hogwarts student again."

"He's completely ga-ga, Potter. I doubt my sister would want to give permission for us to take her daughter to visit a potty old man in France." 

"I suppose it wouldn't be much fun for a kid, especially one who hadn't ever known him. Just a thought," he shrugged it off. Frosythia had sat down at the foot of one of the displays and was reading her magazine with the intensity of a person who had never encountered one before.

After finishing the pastry, Ginny disappeared into the back. The bell over the door rang, and an elderly witch came in. Harry hopped down and went to ask her if she needed help, but she waved him away impatiently, and went about the shop efficiently filling her basket. She came up to the counter and quite firmly indicated she also wanted three potions.

"Good potions, here. I've made a few in my day, and not many I'd buy, but these are almost as good as my own," she told Snape, as he rang up the purchase and gave her back a few sickles. Harry was trying not to laugh at the odd expression which crossed Snape's face. 

"I don't think hers can be as good as Uncle Sev's. How can she think so?" Forsythia grumbled as the door closed behind the woman. 

Harry looked up to see what his lover's response would be to the shortening of his name, as it wasn't at all the sort of thing he ever permitted. Except for Harry, of course.

"Call me that where other students can hear you and I will have you chopping ingredients in detention for months," he told her in a conversational tone.

"Oh! Yes, sir!" she said quickly, and buried her nose in her magazine again, where it stayed until Ginny came back. Snape was impatient to get on, and called Forsythia to the floo. Rather to her surprise, they left Harry Potter behind. Potter had some of her new things, so she was rather reluctant to go on without him. However, she and her uncle flooed back and then walked down to the dungeons together. He didn't send her on, but taught her a dusting charm and set her to dusting his office.

It only seemed fair, after they had bought her so many things, and besides, the new wand made it all seem so easy. Perhaps ten minutes later Potter sauntered in. Then she was allowed to stop while everyone sorted out the packages. 

Forsythia, late September

It turned out that the problem with bringing treats for the girls in her dormitory was that the popularity lasted only until the last bite was eaten. Then they went back to ignoring her again. She didn’t really care that much, but lost herself in the pleasures of unpacking new clothing. The girls who shared the bed nearest hers came to look the things over, but it was plain underwear and serviceable, everyday clothing and only the cloak interested them, and that not for long. She was smart enough to put most of her magazines away in her trunk. But over the next few days they disappeared in ones and twos. She was sure who did it. Breena and Samantha, who were trading magazine, where they had none before. But how could one prove they were yours or stolen? And she hadn’t even got to read them yet! 

When the magazines finally showed up in the common room a week later, they were well on their way to tattered and in the end she only got her hands on one again. It was hard to read with the pictures cut out. Pictures of Harry Potter, and other young men. She noticed, then, that the other girls had the inside of the lids of the school trunks decorated with pictures. 

Not being stupid, she searched her books for spells that might help her, and then went to the library. Locking spells. Good locking spells. She tried to learn them on her own, but as nothing else disappeared from her trunk, it was hard to tell if they were working or there was just nothing she had that anyone wanted. 

Not trusting her companions, and behind on her lessons, she buried herself in school work, and soon had a reputation as a bit of a grind. She learned how to make copies of her notes, and negotiate for something in trade. But as most of the girls in her room were smart enough, it didn’t happen often. She was often just a little bit lonely.

She noticed that most of the girls would talk with her or sit with her only when they had had a falling out with the others. This happened often enough so that she had fairly steady companionship, but it was hard knowing that she wasn’t anyone’s first pick. The first time it happened her feelings were hurt. Not the second time. She expected it by then.

School progressed as it had done for generations at Hogwarts. She soon stopped falling off the broom. She was a decent flyer, but the first years were not allowed to fly outside class. It was frustrating, having to follow the rules and just fly patterns and practice take offs and landings. She watched the Quidditch players at practice sometimes, envious of their time in the sky but not particularly interested in it as she didn’t know the rules and had never seen a game. 

She got teased when she got caught watching the Hufflepuff team practice. The other Slytherin girls, and even the boy, of her year relentlessly kept asking her which of the players had caught her eye. She tossed her head and ignored them, and didn’t watch the Hufflepuffs anymore. 

Twice, on Sunday nights, she was called to Professor Snape’s office and from there to his quarters, where Harry Potter waited with hot chocolate or spiced pumpkin juice. He would ask after her studies, and they would have those odd and awkward conversations that only lasted a few sentences before the subject was exhausted and a new subject would have to be chosen. She tried, but she just never knew what to say. Sometimes Professor Snape was there as well, and then she was even more uncertain. She couldn’t complain in front of her head of house, and therefore had almost nothing to say. Her grades had come up to acceptable standards, but they were not exceptional, and this embarrassed her. Surely someone with an uncle who was an instructor should be able to do better than that? 

She had read through the book they had purchased for her, and found it had an interesting chapter or two, but she hadn’t time to do much reading for anything other than her studies. She certainly had to do enough of that! Sometimes she went outside to do her reading, huddled on the far side of a tree down by the lake. The trees here weren’t much like her apple trees, though, and it was getting a little colder every day. 

A least there was Halloween to look forward to. Until it arrived.

Her mother’s holidays turned upon the needs of the orchards. The traditional holidays of the equinox had been celebrated outside. Her daughter had been ordered to stay inside. Halloween, as it was celebrated at Hogwarts, had sounded like such fun. Games, and a feast for the younger students and this year the older students got a special Hogsmeade day. 

The day went wrong from the beginning. Forsythia overslept, and was late to breakfast, so that she only had time to eat a few bites before she was rushing to class. Once in charms class, she couldn’t find her homework in her bag and lost two points for Slytherin and Mysteria and Glorianna said she'd let the house down. She could hardly eat a bite of lunch because of the knot in her stomach. And, somehow, when it was time for the afternoon classes, she turned left instead of right. She went out the massive front doors of Hogwarts, which were propped open for some reason, down the broad steps and down the path. Her steps got longer, harder, and before she knew it she was running. Running, with tears down her face and a thick,burning sensation in her chest that felt like she was going to explode. 

She ran and ran, and her lungs hurt, and her head, and half-blinded by the tears her feet left the path and she was running in rough grass. It caught at her feet, almost tripping her, causing her to stumble several times, but she managed to stay on her feet and keep going. 

It was such a relief, to be leaving it behind, that it gave her strength to keep on going, and going, and just away, away, away....

Totally unaware, she was shocked when she hit something, or something hit her, and her head came up, wet black strands of hair across her eyes reducing her view to a rolling flash of green and brown. Her breath was knocked out oh her, and at first she thought her senses were knocked out of kilter, but...she was flying! The bar of hardness she had run up against was an arm, holding her close to the chest of a big man on a fast broom, and she screamed and kicked and fought even though she was ten feet off the ground and in big trouble if she succeeded in forcing him to let her go.

The broom was angled down, the ground coming close and she instinctively pulled her legs in to avoid a hard landing, so that as they came to a stop she was able to get her feet under her and twist off the broom. It gave her something to brace against, and she renewed her attempted to get away. His big hand slowly let go of her arm. 

“Merlin, you fight like a wet keazle! Calm down, girl, I don't mean you a bit of harm. You were heading towards the Forbidden Forest, didn't you see? It's dangerous in there! Couldn't let you get eaten by the beasties, could I?”

She twisted, slightly crouching, to get a good look at the man, to see which direction it would be best to run. She froze with indecision. 

Over six feet tall, broad, with long flowing red hair tied back by a leather cord, and bright blue eyes. Plainly, clearly, a Weasley, Fred and George done to another pattern. More handsome perhaps, or at least the open, friendly-yet-concerned face seemed more attractive. He was sitting on his broom, floating a few feet off the ground, legs dangling.

“Who are you?” she blurted, backing up.

“Ron Weasley. You can call me Ron. And you?” Very polite. But there was something in his eyes that said he was amused. She was tired of people laughing at her.

Harry Potters friend. The one who helped kill You Know Who all those years ago? His name was on the memorial. She hadn't known anything about that part of history until she had come to Hogwarts. 

“Forsythia.” It just sort of came out of her mouth. Which was very dry. She swallowed, hard.

“Ah, I've heard about you! Just as pretty as they said, too,” he said with a wink.

Was that supposed to be flattery? She knew she wasn't at all pretty. People said, she'd heard them. So what he said was true. But was he trying to be nice? She'd had quite enough of people being nice on one day and not nice the next. She scowled at him.

“There's a look I've seen on another Snape face! What's wrong? Did I hurt you when I grabbed you up? Sorry about that, but you were heading right for the forest. There's acromantula's in there, did you know?”

They'd said so. But then, there was a lot of lying here. How did one ever sort out what was true? She didn't change her expression, but her head tilted as she considered him.

All the Weasley's she had met had been...friendly. But, she'd heard they were all Gryffindors! Except Helena, who was in her year and her house. Helena wasn't one of the worst ones, but she wasn't friendly, either. She'd heard of the other girl's mocking Helena, saying the girl was still in shock at being sorted into Slytherin in the first place. 

This Weasley was getting off his broom and slinging it over his shoulder. “You were really tearing along there. Being chased?”

“No.”

“Huh. I'll walk you back, or I can give you a lift on my broom,” the Weasley said.

“No, thank you. I'm not going back.”

“Oh? Where are you going?” 

She was not sure. But not back. Not ever. She shook her head and began walking across the grass towards the gate.

“Leaving? The wards will tell the headmistress when you take a step outside the grounds, you know,” the man said in a quiet voice.

She sighed and looked around, and changed direction, heading now towards the lake. 

“That bad, is it?” Still the reasonable, friendly voice. She put her lips together and kept walking.

“You could tell me about it,” the man said. “Maybe I could find a way to help?”

“Huumpffff!”

“Sounds just like an angry cat,” Ron said, admiringly. “Come on, Syth, what's wrong?”

She'd never been called anything but Forsythia in her life. If you didn't count the names she was pretty sure she's heard at the table last night. Those she hadn't even figured out what they meant, so she'd ignored them.

“So,” Ron said. “You hate it here, then? What is it, the food?”

She shook her head and kept walking.

“Classes?” 

She ignored him and kept on walking.

“Students in general, or just the Slytherins?”

She felt her back go stiff, knew he had seen it, that she had given her feelings away.

“It's hard for students from all the houses, coming to a new school, making friends. We all have problems when we first come. It's hardest on the Muggleborn. One of my best friends, Hermione, was having a hard time, too. For months. What you need is a friend.”

She snorted.

“Well, that was obvious, wasn't it. But don't worry, you'll find some.”

She didn't believe it for a minute. 

“So. Are they ganging up on you? It's one of the ways Slytherins deal, by making alliances and turning on the ones they see as weaker. Having power over people makes them feel better about themselves.”

That was true enough. 

“If you tell me exactly what they're doing, I'll help you find a way to help you. What do you want most?”

It almost burst out of her. “I want them to stop taking my things! My homework, my magazines, my hair ribbon. I only had one and it's gone!”

“It's not really about the hair ribbon, eh? Well, would you like to know some charms I learned to keep my brothers out of my own stuff, back in the day? And if they can keep out Fred and George, you know they were good!”

“You'd teach me?” She knew she sounded too eager, but she wanted that! Oh, she wanted that! “And something to bite the fingers that reach into my trunk or my bag?”

“I've got a Weasley wheeze to put pink spots on the face of whoever tries. Lasts a day! I'll bring you one.”

“I don't have any money,” she said, her heart falling again, and her desire to leave rising up again.

“No cost to family, Syth. See, Harry Potter is like a brother to me, and he's with Severus Snape, so we're, you might say, informally related.” 

“Won't last.” None of her mother's paramours had lasted a full year round.

“Eight years and counting.”

Eight years? He eyebrows went up but she quickly got control of her face. 

“Surprised you, eh? Surprised everyone, those two.” 

Forsythia's mind was turning things over. “You're not a teacher.”

“Sometimes I am! I substitute when the Headmistress needs me. But today, I'm here to work on Hagrid's house. He needs a few more shelves. Have you been to see Hagrid?”

No. The Slytherins didn't seem very interested in the pegasort. She knew other houses talked about going down to see him.

“Now, if you just want someone to listen, Hagrid's the bloke to go to. He doesn't talk much and he doesn't give away the secrets he's told, either.”

She wrinkled her brow. What good was someone who listened, but couldn't do anything about it? 

“Want to come with me and talk to me while I work?” Ron asked.

She glanced at the lake. She really didn't have any place to go, and now that she'd calmed down a little she realized it wasn't very smart. She could go home, but didn't think her mother's welcome would be very warm. She was too young to make her own living. She gave a deep sigh. “Yes.” She wouldn't go back to classes today, though. Who cared what points were taken. 

“Walk or broom?” Ron asked.

“Broom.” She was feeling the effects of her mad dash.

“So climb on the back and hold on tight,” he said, bringing it lower for an easy mount. Moments later they were sailing through the air. It was like holding on to a tree, he was so much bigger, but it was interesting, too. His shirt smelled of sunshine and the warmth radiated off of him, bringing a scent that might be sweat, but it wasn't bad. She had never been this close to another person, she realized. Not that she remembered, anyway. It was nice. 

She was reluctant to get down when they arrived at the stone house at the edge of the forest where Hagrid lived. There was a tall and wide doorway but no door, and the one window had diamond panes of colored glass that were pretty in the sun. The pegasort came to the door. The body of a horse, wings, claws instead of hooves. An odd face clearly a mix of several creatures. The hair and the mane were turning white. He was an old beast, she thought.

“'Lo. Isss?” Hagrid said.

“Hagrid! I would like you to meet Forsythia Snape. Syth, Hogwart's best defender and best friend, Rubeus Hagrid. She's having a bad day, so she's with me while she calms down and figures out what to do. I'm going to teach her some useful charms,” Weasley said with a wink. “Meanwhile, she can help me with these shelves, too. Show me where you want them?”

Hagrid nodded to Forsythia and led the way inside. The room was round on one side, and the intricate patterns made by stones of different colors seemed to have been melted together. On the opposite side were several windows with colored glass on top and clear on the bottom. There were chairs of varying heights and a table, and to one side an old-fashioned stove where a kettle steamed. 

One set of shelves between the windows held rocks and trinkets. Gifts from students, perhaps? A stand held a medal hanging from a purple ribbon. There was wood for another set of shelves piled near the next window over. 

There was a spell to hold the boards in place, but Ron did the hammering by hand. It only took an hour before the job was done. It was peaceful. Then, they had tea in huge cups at the table, Hagrid nodding at them as Ron carefully taught her spell after spell, writing them all down in a small notebook he took from his pocket, which he presented to her when they were finished.

It was getting dark bu the time they took their leave of Hagrid and walked towards the castle. “Don't worry, I'll talk to the headmistress. You may not even loose any points,” Ron said.

“I don't care.” Although she did.

“Send me a letter, telling how you're getting on. And you can go to your uncle if it gets too bad, you know.”

“They'd get back at me if I did.”

“You're Uncle Harry, then?”

“Not my uncle.”

“For all practical purposes, poppet.”

They stopped at the steps. She looked him over again, studying him. “Thank you for helping me. You are the nicest man I have ever met. When I'm older I think I should marry you.”

He looked startled, and even for a minute, shaken. She could see him grow pale under the freckles. Then he smiled at her and said, “Oh, you'll throw me over for a handsome Ravenclaw by the time you're twelve!” 

“No,” she said firmly. “I won't.” Turning, she trudged up the stairs. It was dinner time. She wondered if she would be able to eat it, or if she'd be sent to bed without food. Her mother had done that once or twice. She turned to look back down the steps, but Ron was already gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Where the plot was to go after this. 
> 
> Forsythia aggressively moves against the bullying and gets them to back off. Helena Weasley and Forsythia finally become friends.
> 
> Edward Hall, the lone male first year Slytherin, is trying to gett himself moved into the girl's dorm because he's at least bi and probably gay as Paris. And he's all alone in the boy's dorm. Should Helena and Forsythia move over to his dorm to get away from the poison pool which is their dorm room? 
> 
> We find out more reasons why Ron's not an Auror, as he had planned.
> 
> By Forsythia's year four she's still telling Ron she's going to marry him, and he's starting to believe it. But being very noble about not giving her a hint.
> 
> The mystery of Snape's inheritance works out. His second brother's wife did it. She's been keeping him as a living battery and generally exploiting things. She was a death eater and is the last uncaught major player. She is organizing things very slowly, figures her plot to take several decades. 
> 
> This necessitates taking out Harry Potter, and her brother. She's not sad about that. She attacks on multiple fronts. Forsythia and Ron end up defending Severus & Harry's new house from henchmen while Harry and Severus take her out. 
> 
> We win. Hermione volunteers to bear a child for Harry and one for Severus. Ron and Forsythia end up with an orchard and kids.


End file.
